Rain
by Psychotic Tanuki
Summary: He had abandoned love, and she had never been able to find what she was missing. Then, on a rainy day, Kenshin met Kaoru and their twisted journey began. At the end, he who forgot, remembered, and she found what she'd been missing all along. BxK, KxKK
1. Empty Rain

Rain

By: Psychotic Tanuki

AN: I'm going to try something new, and I hope that you like it. Although it's a BxK romance fiction, I refuse to make the romance happen in like…3 chapters or even have the characters like each other instantaneously. I'd like to draw it out as long as possible, so if you don't like that, this may not be the best read. Otherwise, please read and constructively review.

Chapter One: Empty Fear

The bluish light of my LCD flat screen monitor blinked out into nothingness as I shut down my computer with a sense of satisfaction. Even if I hadn't been able to say it to his face, I had still accomplished my goal of breaking up with my boyfriend. Lingering at my desk for another minute or so, I began to notice the vacant feeling that had begun to take root in my chest. Like a sprouting flower, this…hollow void of feeling spread throughout my body. From my head to my toes, I could feel myself shiver despite being in the middle of the hot, sticky moisture of a July thunderstorm.

Cursed with a full head of long thick hair, I could feel each strand glue itself to my sticky, sweat-beaded skin. It was as if my skin were like that of a frog's, completely drenched in moisture. Why, do you ask, was I sitting in a room enveloped in a blanket of searing air? I was sitting in a 102 degrees Fahrenheit room because the power in my apartment building had shut down in the middle of a heat wave. Frustrated, I ripped my elastic hair tie from my wrist and began to wrap my hair into a hairstyle that would hopefully, keep my hair off of my neck.

Glancing around my one room studio apartment, I felt the urge to clean and yet…the lethargy of the thunderstorm compelled me to stay seated. It was as if I was a plant reaching towards the sun, yet still rooted firmly in the ground. Such was my desire to actually accomplish something. Mind you, I didn't like being lazy. It was just that such suffocating humidity demanded as little energy output as possible.

Still, I had accomplished something today. I had broken up with that asshole Amakusa Shougo—and I was damn proud of it too. Shougo was overbearing, immature, a privacy invader, and a black hole. All of the energy I had put into my relationship with Shogo was sucked into that black hole, and I never received anything in return.

Almost phantasmal, the hot sticky humidity was shattered by the gentle melancholic strains of violin. It was a strange hum of honey and smoothness that left chills running up and down my spine. A gentle smile gracing my lips, I listened to the new violin concerto that my neighbor Misao was creating. Perhaps, the new piece was inspired by "the demi-god that rocked her world", her boyfriend Aoshi.

Sad and powerful, the music completely altered the thunderstorm. What had once been a lethargic rain was now thundering upon the earth in absolute anguish. Ubiquitous raindrops crashed into the ice of my window while lightning blazed ephemerally and thunder roared with fury.

With a rabid desire to be a part of the rain, I had risen from my desk and flung open my window. My building had no bug screens (I had the mosquito bites to prove it), and so I thrust my parched arms directly into the warm summer rain. The warm rain water flowed luxuriously over my arms and it wasn't enough. I wanted to feel something—I wanted to make sure that this empty void that I felt in my body was only temporary. I wanted to make sure that I was still capable of feeling. I wanted to make sure that I was right in breaking up with Shougo. I wanted to feel something, anything.

Grabbing my umbrella and slipping into my white sandals, I hurriedly ran out of my apartment. I didn't bother to close my window. I didn't know where my feet were taking me, and I didn't know where I was running to. The air was tense with humidity, and the water splashed at my feet, which were exposed for all to see. My lungs felt like they had combusted into a violent flame whose pinpricks could reach all the way into my side like a knife.

I didn't know how long I had been walking or where I had been walking to. Stopping for a moment, I quickly surveyed my surroundings. My feet had taken me to the park that ran right along the Hudson River. I'd never really taken the time to walk through the park before, mainly because I could never find the time. My pace somewhat slowing down, I began to feel stupid.

No one else was out during this maddening thunderstorm. I mean, there were people outside, but no one was outside without a destination in mind like I was. They were all going somewhere; they had a destination in mind. And I still felt empty inside. I didn't want to sound cliché, but it was as if there was something missing in my life. It was as if I was a nearly completed jigsaw puzzle, and the missing piece was nowhere to be found.

"What am I doing here?" I tightened my grip on my umbrella, and roots sprang from my feet and held me firmly in place. My head felt as if it was reeling and the faint traces of a headache gave me a feeling of indescribable emptiness within the confines of my skull. I was staring at my feet, which despite the humid air had grown cold.

The loud pitter-pattering of the rain accented with the ominous roar of thunder snapped me out of my daze. I had been so sure that I would find what I was missing, and yet—I glanced at my watch—after twenty minutes of aimless wandering, I had found nothing. Defeated and dejected, I tossed my umbrella to the side and indifferent to whether or not the bench was wet, sat down.

"Get a grip Kaoru—get a grip." My eyes burned painfully and my vision blurred as hot saltine tears threatened to overflow. I didn't know why I cried, I didn't even know why I was here—in the rain. Tomorrow I would go back to my regular life—tomorrow I would forget about this empty feeling and everything would be okay. Did I really think I could just walk out and find whatever it was that I was missing?

The rain, albeit warm, was beginning to feel cold upon my skin. I had run out of my house in nothing but shorts, a t-shirt and sandals, and thus, there was no heavy clothing to protect me from the rain. I had grown soaked and my ponytail had grown stiff with rainwater, slathering itself to my skin. I was sure that, with my diminutive stature, and somewhat plain face, I resembled a drowned rodent. The rain had no intention in stopping, and yet I had grown accustomed to the incessant droplets falling upon my head. The monotony of those raindrops was a painful realization of one thing, and one thing only; I was miserably unhappy and I didn't know why. A loud crack of thunder ripped across the sky, but it was accompanied by no lightning and somewhere in the back of my mind I slaughtered an ominous feeling.

Then suddenly, I could hear the click of a gun and feel the cold barrel poke into my side as another body sat down languidly next to me. Eyes widening, my gaze nervously teetered to meet a frightening shade of glowing brown eyes—so luminous that they seemed to glow amber. Amber eyes didn't belong on humans.

"What did you see?" The voice was cold and dispassionate, and yet it rumbled forth from the speaker's chest that I was sure it was a man. Sure enough, his face, which was framed by a curtain of violent crimson hair, was angular and masculine with a hint of androgynous beauty.

"Was I supposed to have seen anything?" My own voice was meek and barely audible as I was very unnerved by his presence.

"Don't ask questions, just answer mine."

"Nothing. I saw nothingness, a black pit of nothingness."

"Why are you here?" He removed his gun from my side and unconsciously, I breathed a sigh of relief. Until, that is, he cocked it straight in front of my face. I could hear my heart beat rapidly, until the pounding resonated loudly inside my head. At point blank, not even Speedy Gonzalez would be able to dodge—I didn't delude my self to believe that I could.

"I am here because…I was afraid that I was dead inside." I was going to die, I could feel it. His cold amber eyes showed no compassion or feeling, and I was afraid, deathly afraid that he would pull the trigger and then I'd be dead. My existence would be nothing more than a memory. Something told me that at this precise moment, I should be begging for my life; that I should be seeing flashes of random memories. I was walking the fine line between life and death, teetering along its borders.

"Aren't you afraid of dying now?"

"Yes."

"Then go home. As far as you're concerned, you were never here." He didn't have to tell me twice. As soon as he lowered the gun, I ran as fast as my sandals would let me. Ignoring the rain, I could hear gunshots ringing in the background and I resisted the temptation to look back. If I looked back, I would see something—and I didn't want to see any more than I already had.

It didn't matter how fast I ran, or how long the thunderstorm would keep me awake tonight.

Those eyes would haunt my dreams.


	2. True Fear

Rain

By: Psychotic Tanuki

Chapter Two: True Fear

            I would've given anything for it to have been just a bad dream, to forget that I had ever seen anything.  It's been three months since that fateful rainy day, and each passing day has only grown more peaceful. To my surprise, there had been no news of a murder in Rockefeller Park, or of a dead body floating in the Hudson River. There were no reports of an amber-eyed serial killer or police investigations.

It was almost as if it had just been a nightmare. Perhaps it had been. There was no dead body; there were no murder weapons, and no evidence that it had even happened. Even better, I hadn't run into a single redhead in the last three months. Feeling better, I stopped to drop my visitor's button into the glass box when I could feel all my cheer disappear as quickly as it had come.

            Staring out the glass doors of the Metropolitan, I felt an ominous discomfort as furious rivulets of water shattered across the streets as a stormy fury raged on outside. It had been bright and sunny when I had entered the museum, and now nature had decided to rain.

            For reasons that are quite obvious, I've felt an aversion to rainy days. For the past three months, I've spent rainy days locked up in my apartment or at school—just as long as I was not in the rain. Thus, I had two options: I could either go buy a new umbrella from the gift shop, or I could wait out the storm inside the museum. Neither option seemed to hold any appeal to me. Regardless, I had to meet Tae at three-thirty (and it was now two-forty) meaning I had no time to dilly dally at the museum. Thus, I set off in the direction of the gift shop.

The gift shop was classy looking and filled with various trinkets and merchandise—all of which, were ridiculously overpriced. Filtering through the various T-shirts, books and other miscellaneous junk, I grew disheartened to find that there were no umbrellas, and if there were, I could not find them.

            I ran a hand through my bangs, and heaved. I had no idea as to how long it had been raining, so logically, all of the umbrellas had been bought. As if to confirm my guess, my hand found its way to the empty umbrella display and my eyes bugged out at the price marker. Thirty-five dollars for a dinky umbrella with an asinine "M" on it—absolutely ludicrous! I'd rather _walk_ in the rain and get completely soaked than spend thirty five dollars on an umbrella. 

            "A bit pricy for an umbrella, wouldn't you agree?" Chills ran down my spine as a predatory growl rang through the air. Whirling around, I was greeted by the wolfish visage of a man in his late thirties to early forties. He was lanky, with spindly arms and legs encased in an armor of a blue NYPD uniform. He peered at me through squinted eyes, which were masked by a curtain of spikes of hair that had escaped from the gelled prison of the rest of his head. Curled tightly, his hands clutched onto a battered, cylindrical object.

            "Ms. Kamiya, I believe that this is yours." He motioned towards the object in his hand, and with faint surprise, I had no trouble recognizing it.  It was the umbrella that I had carelessly tossed away at the park. I hadn't put my name on it, and so, policeman or not, I was wary.

            "How do you know my name?" Voice shaky, I brought myself to my full height as to try and like less of a pushover. As if sensing my discomfort, the man smirked arrogantly—after all my full height of five foot three inches was nothing intimidating.

            "I believe that you lost this at Rockefeller Park did you not?"

            "I believe I asked how you knew my name." Staring at my faithful umbrella, I could feel my palms grow slick with sweat and my heart beating savagely against my ribs. There was my proof that it was more than a dream. There was my evidence that it had actually happened. Slowly but surely, I could feel my heart become heavy with anxiety.

            "I have my sources. You lost this at Rockefeller Park did you not?"

            "I don't remember."

            A sly grin spread across his wolfish face, "Come now Ms. Kamiya, lying isn't your forte. Takeda Kanryuu, does that name mean anything to you?"

            I snorted. "Of course. The entire city knows who he is." It wasn't far from the truth. Takeda Kanryuu was the well known doctor who was busted with a cocaine smuggling ring five years ago and every news station had covered his release from jail a few months ago.

            "He was murdered in Rockefeller Park two months ago. Your umbrella was found ten feet away from his dead, mutilated body."

            "I didn't murder him." The policeman's eyes twinkled with amusement as he sneered hatefully.

            "Of course not. You're too small and weak to rip a man apart into twelve pieces," he waved his hand nonchalantly as he handed me my umbrella and pulled out a cigarette, "I want to know what the man who did it looks like."  A part of me bristled at his insult, but another part of me shuddered violently; he'd been ripped apart into twelve pieces. If I told the policeman, I had no doubt that I would be the next person to be ripped into twelve pieces. The thought gave me shivers; I could not tell him.

            "I don't know. I wasn't there." At my answer the policeman's face lost all sense of false politeness as a glint of feral agitation shone in his eye.

            "I don't appreciate being lied to Ms. Kamiya." His voice was icy as it cut through the air with its venom. "I'm not stupid so you can stop pretending to be ignorant."

            "Well _I_ don't talk to arrogant police officers who like to coerce information out of innocent bystanders." A nervous adrenaline ran through my veins. I had no conclusive idea as to where such courage had come from, and quite frankly, I was afraid he would slap handcuffs on me and drag me down to a police station. Turning on my heel, I walked away from the insufferable policeman. I clutched my umbrella and hastily made my way out of the gift shop, through the door and down the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Arts.

            The sidewalks were coated with a sheet of moisture and the streets were riddled with lakes of murky rainwater. Above my head, the rain pounded mercilessly upon my umbrella and flashes of lightning streaked across the gray sky. Water dripped off the spokes of the umbrella and trailed onto my pant legs in a spotty trail. The air was heavy with humidity, dampening everything along with it.

            I glanced at my cell phone to see that it was only three o'clock—and I had thirty minutes to walk seven street numbers and two avenues to Tae's restaurant, the Akabeko, for a job interview. I had been in such a rush to get out of the museum, and now that I was forced to walk in the rain, I began to wonder _why _I had been in a rush. Sighing, I trudged on through the puddle infested street feeling dejected, disappointed and frustrated.

            All I had wanted was to find something worthwhile. My neighbor Misao had her music and Aoshi (who in turn was very passionate about his work as a private detective), my best friend Megumi had her dream of becoming a doctor, Tae had her restaurant, and Misao's roommate Soujiro had his track career. Of all my friends I felt as if I was the only one without a goal or a passion. It was already sophomore year of college, and I had no extraordinary talent or defining characteristic besides my notorious temper.

            Worst of all, it was still there—that sense of emptiness. It hadn't disappeared or faded away, rather it had grown larger and I still couldn't find out why I had anything to feel empty about. I had good grades, loving family and friends, a sweet but boneheaded boyfriend—what could possibly be so _wrong_ to make me feel so…empty? Dumping Shougo, while oddly satisfying, had not helped alleviate the problem, nor had plunging myself 100% into my schoolwork, or spending more time with friends. Perhaps I just wasn't, _normal. _Brushing my bangs away from my sweaty forehead, I stopped to view my reflection in a restaurant's window.  

            I was "okay" looking and according to Misao, if I tried I could be cute. I could stand to lose a few pounds, but it wasn't necessary, and when it came to oh-so-fashionable-much-too-painful heels or my hole ridden sneakers—I'd pick my sneakers. I _looked _normal, but the fact remains that _normal_ people don't go running around in a thunderstorm and get guns put to their heads, _normal_ people don't lie or piss off police officers, and _normal_ people don't stare at their reflections in public to soul search.  

            "Oi, Missy! If you're gonna stare like a zombie at the window you better come in and eat something. You're giving me the heebie jeebies." A lanky man with incredibly messy spiked up hair drawled roguishly and I could feel flames of embarrassment tinge my cheeks. He'd tied a red bandanna around his forehead and wore only a wife beater and jeans under his stained apron. He was handsome in a "devil-may-care" sort of way, with an impish smile, chiseled face and dark eyes. Eying my cell phone, I had twenty minutes and the Akabeko was just down the block so I figured that I would take the man up on his offer.

He sauntered rather lazily, slouching all the way and yet, there was still an air of bad boy sexiness that was appealing. Passing by a table full of teenaged girls, I could see his smirk as the girls erupted into a fit of giggles. A bit disappointed, I decided that he was a little too "friendly" for my taste. Still, I was stressed, and like it or not, this was a restaurant.

There was an old, yet clean air about this diner type. It was small with only a few two-person tables and a bar that could fit about fifteen people. It was so small that its kitchen was stationed right behind the barstool and its staff right along with it. The diner seemed to be popular seeing that all the tables were taken and there were only a few barstools left. A lively mood seemed to permeate the air as people talked animatedly as orders were flying back and forth from the "bartenders" and cooks. The playboy, whose name tag read "Sanosuke", sat me at the red cushioned barstool, which happened to clash with the dark blue countertop of the bar.

            "Name's Sano—Can I getcha anything?" I glanced at the menu which was scrawled in mainly illegible handwriting on a mounted chalkboard above the stove.

            "Chicken soup sounds good." Sano laughed for a reason that I couldn't name as another man (whose name tag read "Katsu") slapped him on the back with tears of laughter streaming down his face.

            "You know, it's not good for business to insult your customers." I bristled with indignation. I hadn't come inside to be laughed at and good looks can only get you so far before a crappy personality set in—a lesson I had learned from Shougo.

            "It's an inside joke between Katsu and me, no need to get angry. Katsu and I apologize." A twinkle of mirth sparkled in his eyes as he set off to get me my soup and Katsu set off to work the cash register. Sano returned a few uneventful minutes later with my soup, and I began to eat—not knowing how hungry I really was.

            It was good soup and for the moment, I could forget the inclement weather outside, the asshole of a policeman and my fear of a man with dark red hair and burning amber eyes. For the moment, I could relax and enjoy the noodles, carrots and bits of chicken floating around in a yellow broth and the pleasant chatter of the busy diner. So enamored with the temporary respite from walking in the rain, I paid little attention to anything else which appeared to disappoint none but Sano and Katsu.

            "You shouldn't have angered the policeman. Now he knows that you know something. Once Saitoh knows something, he doesn't give up easily." I dropped my spoon, which had been midway to my mouth, and it clattered loudly into my soup bowl. The voice was as icy as I remembered it to be. Slowly, I turned my head to see that the demon was not looking at me, rather, his eyes were fixed upon the menu and his long locks of hair were pulled into a ponytail at the top of his head.

            He had seen my encounter with the policeman, meaning that he had been following me for more than half an hour. With the dawn of this realization, the hand of fear quickly gripped at my heart, which responded by thudding loudly in my ears. Eyes searching desperately, I was disheartened to find both Sano and Katsu engaging in lively conversation with the group of teenagers I had passed by earlier.

            "And that means that I might have to kill you after all." He turned his head slowly. Contrary to our last encounter, there was no ferocity or steely urgency in his countenance. He almost seemed…more human. His face seemed to have an almost reluctant culpability which hid itself in his pursed lips and tense brow. As if responding to my own scrutiny, his demon eyes regarded me carefully and a flicker of something unreadable flashed within their cool depths before he turned back to the menu.

            "So tell me, are you still afraid that you are dead inside?"

             "No." I swirled my soup with my spoon. I had known all along that I was not dead inside, and thus my fear had been translated into something more substantial.

            "No? Then what are you afraid of?" His voice, deep with some sort of unidentifiable pain, chortled with scornful amusement. The clock above the menu read three-fifteen. Throwing a five-dollar bill onto the counter, I left my soup unfinished and his question unanswered.

            The truth was, I was afraid that before this nightmare was over, he will have killed me before I could replace my fear with something worthwhile.

AN: Yay…chapter two is done... It's occurred to me that Kaoru and Kenshin don't know each other's names but that's okay—it'll be remedied within the next chapter. Oh…and for Blonde Goth who asked who Shougo was, he was the Christian dude in the anime.  I

On another note, I was going to have this out earlier but my internet went whacko for a couple of days. That and I tried to be as accurate as possible on describing the Metropolitan Museum being that I haven't been there in a while, and Rockefeller Park is an actual park as is Battery Park City. :D

Please review—thank you.

Thanks to megitsune, kean, Nguardian, hiei's.punk.rocker.girl, Poppy2, Blonde goth, blue jeans, tomboy-chic, and Ayame, in Kouga hating mode for reviewing.  I really appreciated all of them.


	3. Sakabatou

Rain

By: Psychotic Tanuki

Chapter Three: Sakabatou

I had woken up to the shrill of my doorbell. My entire body was sluggish and I felt more tired now than before. Rubbing sleep's last vestiges from my eyes, I glanced over to my alarm clock. Blurry red numbers revealed that it was 11:30. I'd slept for roughly five hours.

"Who the hell visits at 11:30?" Kicking off the covers, I stomped over to my door. Grabbing the cool steel chrome of my doorknob, I hastily unlocked the chain lock above it and flung open the door. My jaw dropped.

"Aw hell no."

"Glad to see you too." Leaning jauntily on her right leg and sporting a Colombia University tote bag, Megumi smirked knowingly. I hated that face and best friends or not, I didn't want to see it at the moment. So I did the most logical thing that came to mind; I slammed the door in her face.

"C'mon tanuki-girl. Open this damn door. It's bad enough that you forgot to meet me at Grand Central—not to mention you turned off your cell phone. I had to _walk_ from 34th street all the way down town! Do you know how painful it is to walk half the length of Manhattan in _stilettos?_" Voice agitated, Megumi was loud enough to wake the neighbors. I sighed against my door; I had so hoped she would go away if I ignored her long enough.

"Bullshit. You took a cab and you know it." I reluctantly opened the door. I had forgotten that Megumi was returning from her interview in Boston today. Taking her heavily packed duffel bag from the hallway, I paid no heed to the guilt gnawing at the bottom of my stomach.

"I'm gone for a week, and this place is a mess." Sighing dramatically, Megumi's lips curled with disgust at the overflowing garbage can, piles of unwashed dishes, and heaps of clothes strewn haphazardly over the barely visible wood finish of my floor. I ran a sheepish hand through my hair as I realized the full effects of my negligence.

"You would think that Shougo dumped you." She crossed her arms expectantly, a condescending look in her dark cinnamon eyes. Withering under the glare, I fidgeted. What was I supposed to say? She was tacitly demanding an explanation, which I really didn't have.

"Actually, I dumped him."

"What? When did _that_ happen?" Suddenly my feet were very interesting. I hadn't gotten around to telling Megumi that I had broken up with Shougo; partly because I didn't want to think about the pig, and partly because I didn't want to hurt her feelings. After all, Megumi had been the one to set us up in the first place and took enormous pride in her matchmaking abilities.

"A few months ago."

"A few _months_ ago? Why didn't you tell me?" More angry than hurt, Megumi raked her hand through her long ebony tresses. Megumi was gorgeous—although she had taken severe pains to hide that fact. She had never liked to wear makeup, or wear stylish clothing, contrary to popular belief. With a long oval face and porcelain skin, her face was classically feminine. She could run through the mud, have her hair shaved off and still be able to get a hot date.

"You were off doing interviews, so I guess it just slipped my mind." It was true. Megumi was two years my senior and would soon be off to medical school. I had seen very little of my best friend in the last few months seeing that she was being interviewed by various medical schools.

"So then if you called it off, why are you so avidly acting out the part of 'Lonely and Depressed Single Woman Who Can't Get a Date'?" I threw my best death glare, but she only waved it off as she began to dump the heaps of scattered clothing into the hamper. Soon realizing that it would be near impossible to go to sleep now, I flicked on the light switch.

"I'm not acting like a "Lonely and Depressed Single Woman". Stuff has just been fucked up lately." Ignoring Megumi's snort, I grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator. All this interrogating left me thirsty.

"What stuff?" I froze. What could I tell her? That one day, I decided to dump my now ex-boyfriend, run around in the rain, crash into a murderer, run away from said murderer, only to piss off a cop and meet up with aforementioned murderer again? I think not.

So I lied.

"Grades."

"…Grades." Megumi's voice was deep with skepticism. To my relief, she let it drop there.

"So how did the interview go?"

"Bad." By the time I had gotten to my interview with Tae, I had been so distraught that I had collided with a waitress and broke thirteen dishes. It would be a freaking miracle if I got the job. Then again, I had gone for the interview a week ago and had not been contacted since. Placing a sympathetic hand on my shoulder, Megumi led me over to the couch. I took a sip of my water.

"My friend, I think it's been far too long since you last got laid."

Water shot out of my mouth and into Megumi's face. She had that sort of talent; she could get under my skin like no one else could. Megumi's words had a way of cutting right to the core, and I resented her biting comments. But…from experience, deep down I knew the only reason why Megumi's words ever really hurt was because it was true. Not the getting laid part—the whole acting like a brainless zombie part. Grimacing, Megumi made way for the bathroom.

Megumi knew me very well. She knew me too well actually. She knew that I wouldn't respond to the traditional advice, or guidance—I never had. In fact, I had a penchant for disregarding good advice. The only way to get through my thick skull was to either pound it in, or to cut through. Megumi was never one for pounding.

Grabbing my water bottle, I took another sip. I never knew when I was in the middle of receiving Megumi's advice. I never knew until it had already been given; such was the case now. And after ignoring her good advice for years and suffering the consequences, I contemplated what Megumi had to tell me. Or rather, what she had pointed out that I was too blind to see.

I was running away. I was so afraid of _him_ that I had forgotten about everything else. I had forgotten how to be Kaoru—or at least the Kaoru I was proud of being. I didn't want to face the prospect of dying, and so, I had turned myself into an insipid coward. I had abandoned all morals because I believed it would save my life.

"Well, you seem less pathetic. I believe a 'Thank you Megumi' is in order." Megumi smirked from the bathroom doorway. She didn't have to know the circumstances of my issues, to know what they basically were. Still, she irked me like no other person could.

I flipped her the bird.

"Shut up." We laughed, and a cathartic sense of relief washed over me. I haven't laughed in a long time.

Megumi had slept over, but since she had classes on Mondays, she had already left before I woke up. I, on the other hand, was skipping class to rectify my mistakes. Tying the shoelaces of my sneakers, I dreaded the task of finding that wolfish police officer. There had to be thousands of police officers in New York City—and I was looking for a needle in the haystack. On top of that, I didn't actually look forward to _talking_ with him.

Still, this was no time to nurse my bruised pride. I walked out of the subway and towards the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was my only clue as to where I might find "Wolfy". If I was lucky, maybe some of the museum staffers would know who he was. I didn't want to think of what I was supposed to do if I was unlucky.

My sneakers clapped softly against the stone steps. I paid no attention to the uneasiness wavering in my stomach. Without much success, I tried not to remember how _he_ had known I had angered the policeman. Perhaps he was watching at this moment.

I grit my teeth. What did it matter if he was watching? It wasn't going to deter me from telling the police. My silence would not be the cause of somebody's death—and if he should kill me, then so be it.

Chewing my lip, I got my admission button and headed towards the gift shop. It was silly for me to expect the policeman to still be standing right where I left him. But a part of me hoped that he was. My heart knocked against my ribs as I hurried past the bathrooms and towards the gift shop.

To my dismay, darkness shrouded the tiny gift shop. It was then that I noticed the large numbers telling me that the store opened at 11:30 am. I glanced at my watch. Shit. I had an hour and forty-five minutes until the damned store would open. There was no point in returning home—the minute I returned home, I would have to leave again. That, and if I left the museum, I would have to get another admission button. And I had forgotten to bring my student ID, meaning that I would have to pay another ten dollars.

_ "The worst thing to waste a brilliant mind on is television."_ That was my father's favorite saying. Begrudgingly, the cheapest and easiest way to be near the gift store when it opened was to stay in the museum. However, I didn't like the idea of sitting in front of the gift shop for another hour and a half. Thus, I concluded that it would be a culturally enlightening good idea if I were to educate my mind by looking around the museum. Never mind that I had been here a week ago.

As a result, the next half hour was spent browsing around the ancient art of Egypt and at the end of that half hour, I found myself in the 'Arms and Armor' section of the museum. More specifically, I found myself staring at a wide collection of Japanese swords.

There was one sword in particular. Most of the swords were polished and their lacquer sheaths glistened in the museum lighting—this sword however, it was different. Its sheath was not lacquered; on the contrary, it was marred with dozens of scratches. While the blade glistened, the hilt was in a state of utter disrepair. It seemed to be a pariah among the other polished swords, which made it all the more alluring.

"I didn't think that girls could be fascinated by a mere sakabatou." Breath hitching in my chest, a mixed sense of relief and anxiety washed over me. Relief, that I didn't have to wander around Manhattan to find a tall spindly policeman, and anxiety that I had to talk to said policeman.

"Sakabatou?" I glanced carefully at the small information card next to the sword. A sword with its blade on the reverse side? What good was a sword like that?

"I'll cut to the chase Miss Kamiya—"

I tore my gaze from the sword to find the policeman with a smug leer on his face. He had obviously been expecting my compliance from the beginning.

"What did the killer look like?" Blood rushing, I took a deep breath. This was the point of no return—what I said now could not be taken back. The silence of the museum roared in my ears, while the air proceeded to suffocate me with its thickness. Nonetheless, I licked my chapped lips and prepared myself.

"Long red hair, slight in stature…sort of looked like he was a girl." A chill ran down my spine, as a slow feral grin spread over the police man's face. By the way his cold amber eyes glazed over, it looked as if he were experiencing a twisted version of pure ecstasy.

Those eyes were the same color as _his_ were. He had kept them squinted until now, so I had not seen them before. He took no notice of my discomfort, and if he did, he didn't care.

"What color were his eyes?"

"Same as yours."

"Ah, so he has returned," he smirked mockingly at the encased Sakabatou, entirely pleased with himself, "It would seem that his petty ideals did not hold."

"What do you mean?" He regarded me carefully through a sidelong glance.

"The man who donated this sword is the same man who killed Takeda Kanryuu—he's a dangerous man Miss Kamiya. If I were you, I would leave the country. Because now that you've told me what he looks like," He pulled out a cigarette, "If he finds you, there won't be anyone in the entire world who could save you."

Pulling out a silver cigarette lighter, he lit it casually and slowly began to smoke it. His amber eyes that were focused on the Sakabatou now regarded me quietly. Perhaps he had expected me to be afraid by his words. I wasn't—I had known that long before he even opened his mouth.

"What about you? Won't he be after _you_ once he knows you're looking for him?" Abruptly, a cold laugh burst from his lips, startling me. Eyebrows furrowing with confusion, my heart beat faster as I felt the knots in my stomach grow tighter.

The laughter had subsided and a sinister smile crept up onto his lips. I could tell by their glazed look that he was not looking at me, but at something else; something I couldn't see. But I didn't have to see it, to know what that look meant.

His voice took on a raspy quality, dripping with an uncultivated evil. Unconsciously, I shivered, which only seemed to amuse him more.

"I look forward to it."

"Saitoh! Get away from her!" Roughly, I felt my shoulders jerk back as someone pulled me away from the policeman. Faintly, it registered that I had heard that voice before.

"Takasugi-san. I thought roaches took better care of family." Takasugi? Uncle Shinsaku? Glancing up, I saw my favorite uncle snarling at the police officer. What was he doing here? I had thought he was in Japan visiting a friend of his…

"Shut up Saitoh. If I see you anywhere near her again…" My uncle was no small man, but the spindly policeman, Saitoh as my uncle called him, loomed over him as if he were an ant.

"It's not me you need to protect the raccoon from. Tell Katsura-san that he's getting rusty." Saitoh's eyes regarded me disdainfully, warning me not to relay what I had told him to my uncle. With that, he stalked off from the exhibit, leaving me with my uncle.

Uncle Shinsaku was the black sheep of the family. My mother had loved her older brother dearly, but the fact of the matter was that he had a shady past; one my mother never talked about. I had never really cared, nor had I ever believed my mother's warnings, but at this moment… At this moment, I was beginning to see what she had meant when she had said Uncle Shinsaku was a "dangerous man."

"Kaoru, what were you doing talking to a man like that?" Messy black hair shook as he grabbed me by my shoulders. In his dark coffee eyes, I could see a wild panic. The epitome of cool, my uncle never panicked, and I grew uneasy. I didn't like seeing Uncle Shinsaku like that.

"I was looking at this sword and he just starting talking to me. What are you doing in the States? Mom told me you were visiting a friend in Japan for the rest of the year." He ran a hand through his hair, his face contorted into sheepish embarrassment.

"I was. I came back a few months ago. Bad stuff happened in Japan, so I brought my friend over to get his mind off of things. You'd like him; He's even better than I am at kendo." Uncle Shinsaku laughed nervously under my disbelieving glare. It had to have been more than mere coincidence that my uncle was here, at this moment. Sobering from his panic, Uncle Shin's face grew solemn.

"Kao-chan, that man is a very dangerous man—"

"He's a policeman, how dangerous could he be?" Yes, this Saitoh person was scary, but he was a policeman. His civic duty was to protect the citizens…right?

"Very dangerous," Uncle Shin's eyes glittered with apprehension, "If he approaches you again, _run._ Run as fast as you can, and don't hesitate." With that, my Uncle wrapped me into a bear hug, one that I couldn't bring myself to return.

Something was wrong with this picture. Somehow, Saitoh, my uncle and _that man_ were all connected; and by the way things looked, I couldn't trust Uncle Shin either. We were still standing next to that Sakabatou, and my eyes drifted towards the small information card.

_ Donated by K. Himura._

I didn't understand what was going on, but this time, I wasn't going to run away. Who was K. Himura, why did he kill Takeda Kanryuu, why did my uncle know that policeman? But more importantly, what the hell was my place in all of this?

_K. Himura…_

Carefully, I returned my uncle's hug with my eyes fixed on that name. Perhaps he really was the key to everything.

AN: Phew. That was longer than I thought it would be. Originally there was more to this chapter, but it was getting a little too long, so I decided the rest of it would get stuck into the next chapter. And I think rating might go up later on, but I'm not too sure. Ah, well we'll see.

It's a little hard to write a full blown plot through only one person's point of view, so you have to read between the lines of Kaoru's blurred perception, and her tendency to let emotions cloud her thoughts. I dropped about four or five hints as to Kenshin's background in this chapter. These things will be revealed later on as Kaoru finds out for herself what Kenshin's actual past is. Kaoru's suspicious, but she doesn't really know anything—she only has a hunch. And no, he doesn't have the scar—at least…not yet.

As for the Kaoru/Megumi relationship, I think that's what was portrayed in the manga and the series. All those times Megumi scolded or had a riff with Kaoru was because she was really guiding her; pointing things out that Kaoru couldn't see. Hopefully that came off well.

Thanks to XxSilentxDreamerxX, Kenshin's-angel, flaming amber, Ayame in Kouga-hating mode, the evil witch, Nguardian, kenjutsu priestess, blue jeans, reignashii, starstoryteller, blond goth, kuroi tamashii,

Poppy2- XD, I'm glad you think I'm doing well with my depiction of Kaoru. It's kind of hard since a real person is not just a set of characteristics, but a bunch of facets that each have their time in the spotlight. Each chapter is sort of like that, and a different facet of her personality surfaces.

Jouko-chan- Kaoru and Sano XX;. Ah well, I'm glad you liked the Sano/Kaoru interaction, He'll be showing up again soon with a role more important than you can even guess. As for OCC…I'm not too sure. I know that OOC means "out of character" and I think OCC means along the same lines. XX;

girl from ipanema- I grew up with grammar lessons, so I should hope its reflected in the fic. I'd be pissed if it didn't. As for a lemon…oro…I don't know if I have it in me to write such a scene. I had to write one in a writing group and nearly died of embarrassment and ended up implying it instead. I frankly don't know if I'm mature enough to write a lemon, but we'll see. Hope you still read the fic even if I don't have the guts to write one ;;

Omata- I agree that the best romances are the ones that happen gradually. Although I might take painfully long. As for my choice with Shougo…I couldn't use Enishi because…he has other uses, and Shougo was the only choice from either anime or manga that I could just use and discard easily.

Kean- ahahahahaha ; I'm glad for your constructive criticism, so no need to worry. I kind of felt that way about it too, but Chapter two and three were really kind of mixed together but it didn't fit well, so I had to chop them up in two, and ended up having to do the same with chapters three and four. I think it came out weird because of that. shrug ah well…

Livia- ; I really appreciated that you pointed out what lines confused you and what lines you liked. You were right about my choice of wording in slaughter—it was a way of foreshadowing. :D


	4. Moonlight

Rain

By: Psychotic Tanuki

Chapter Four: Moonlight

I could feel the air leave my lungs. It felt like my ribs were going to crack and I couldn't catch a proper breath of air. It felt like an anaconda had wrapped itself around my torso and started to constrict. I was going to die. And I was going die a slow, painful death.

"Aw buck up Kaoru. You look pretty in a kimono." Misao jibed, plucking at the invisible dust on her own kimono. She had taken her long inky black hair out of its regular braid and done something to fancy to it. The number of twists and hairpins in Misao's hair were incalculable, but it had a sophisticated effect on my immature neighbor.

"She's right. You'd never know by the clothes you wear; honestly Kaoru," My mother clucked approvingly, "But I must say you clean up nicely. If only you could do this more often…" Sighing wistfully, my mother tugged at my obi, determined to make a beautiful, complicated knot in the back.

"This kind of beauty is not worth the pain." I hissed. I hated dressing up, and further more, I hated dressing up in kimonos. They were restrictive, took forever to put on, and geta were so damn hard to walk in. My mother frowned, she had never liked the disregard I put into my looks.

"Don't worry Mrs. Kamiya. Once she falls in love with the right man she'll come around." I stuck my tongue out at Misao, who was currently sharing a good laugh with my mother. Whereas Megumi was naturally beautiful, Misao was naturally cute. Even more petite than I was, Misao exuded enthusiasm and it was reflected in her round rosy cheeks and girlish smile. It was hard to believe that she was older than I was—even if it was only by two months.

"Speaking of falling in love," Mom tugged sharply at my obi, "Your uncle is bringing Katsura Kogoro with him and that friend of his from Japan." I groaned. I was only nineteen and Mom was already hinting about men she thought to she'd like to have as a son in law. Where had I heard the name Katsura before?

"What about it?"

"Katsura-san has a son about your age. If you make a good impression, maybe we could set up a date." As if to drive her point home, she tugged extra hard and I could feel my ribs bruising. I was happy my mother couldn't see me grimace in pain.

"What about his friend from Japan? What's he like?" Eyes sparkling, Misao smiled coyly as she propped her arm on her knee and her chin upon her upturned hand. Misao and my mother got along famously. Both were lively, loved to gossip and held a great appreciation for music. It was no surprise that my mother invited her to my father's birthday party.

Today was Dad's birthday. He was turning forty-two, an unlucky number. In Japanese, the numbers four and two were shi and ni respectively, but if you put them together you would get "shini"; and that was all too reminiscent of the word "shinimasu", which meant "to die." Granted, my father could care less about stuff like that. My mother, on the other hand, was very superstitious.

"There's something off about Shinsaku's friend from Japan," I noticed Mom's hand shake slightly as she paused; "He's very handsome but, I didn't get a good feeling from him. He's too standoffish; too aloof."

"Maybe Misao would like him then. She tends to like strong and silent type." I smirked as a bright pink color spread across Misao's face. My mother had introduced Misao and Aoshi a few months ago. Ever the matchmaker, Mom was intensely pleased to find out that they were dating.

"That's a different kind of aloof. Aoshi may be quiet and moody, but this one…this one is gruesome. I don't like him. But enough about him—just smile and make your father proud. Don't be grumpy." I frowned. Uncle Shin's friend couldn't be that bad to warrant the adjective gruesome. Mom wasn't usually this…rude about other people. Looking over to Misao, we exchanged glances and she shrugged. Maybe he had rubbed Mom the wrong way.

Making the final knot, Mom stood me in front of the full length mirror. Mom had an entire arsenal of old silk kimonos. For Misao, Mom had picked out a dark blue kimono, decorated with sparrows, complete with a white under-kimono and silver obi. It made her seem more mature, more womanly, more…sophisticated. With her complicated hairstyle and the dark colors of the kimono, my mother had turned a bubbly, somewhat immature girl into the pinnacle of worldliness.

For me, my mother had dressed me in a kimono that was the color of pure driven snow. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I tried hard not to grimace. The kimono was blinding_. Blinding_. If it weren't for the midnight blue under-kimono and matching obi, I might have seemed like a ghost. As for my hair, it was swept up into a simple ponytail tied together with, another blinding white ribbon. Just my luck, knowing me, I would irreparably stain the kimono.

The difference in the selections of kimono between me and Misao were not lost on me. Misao was dressed as a very mature, very _taken _woman. I was dressed as a very pure, very naïve, very _marriageable _girl. Mom was very cunning when she wanted to be.

"I think its time we made our appearance." I think it would be lovely if we could just stay put. However, to my dismay Mom just kissed me on the cheek and steered me towards the party with a jubilant Misao skipping behind.

Mom quickly led the way from the upstairs dressing room of the Aoiya to the party downstairs. Standing tall amongst the crowd was a stoic man, with jet black hair. He seemed to be quite anxious and misplaced, but then again, that was my brother Aoshi for you. He didn't fare well surrounded by strangers. Misao squealed with delight, and literally jumped into his waiting arms. I didn't fail to notice that his anxious look had disappeared almost instantaneously. Quietly, I slipped away from Mom's side.

The large clock above entrance read seven-thirty. Megumi said she would be arriving around eight forty-five. Oh joy. As much as I loved my parents, they would try to goad me into meeting this Katsura person. Although I wanted to say hello to my brother, he and Misao were off in another world. It wasn't _their_ fault I was a socially inept caterpillar.

And I couldn't bring myself to see Uncle Shinsaku. After the "museum incident", he had run off and he hadn't bothered to contact me since. That was on Monday, and today was Friday. I didn't really care if Uncle Shin had a criminal record, but there were so many questions I wanted to ask him. Still…I trusted Uncle Shin; he would explain in due time. That is, if he knew what was good for him. For now though, I could wait patiently.

So basically, I was alone for the night. The most I could do by myself was watch my dad's friends make fools of themselves on the dance floor and pig out at the sushi bar. I steeled myself for a long night; Megumi had said she would bring a date. A date meant that even if Megumi came, I wouldn't be to freely talk with her. Leaning against the wall, I watched as people enjoyed themselves; it would seem that I would be the only wall flower tonight.

I sighed. I really hated being a wallflower. It was enough to make me go insane. A dull ache settled under the soles of my feet. If push came to shove, I wouldn't be able to run very far or very fast. Megumi would call me silly, but I got the feeling it would be important to be able to run.

"It's not healthy for young eligible girls to be wall flowers." I looked up to see a familiar looking man, but I could not place a name to him. He was of medium build, and had a kind face framed by groomed strands of ebony. "You are Shinsaku's niece, are you not?"

"I am." Perhaps he was my uncle's friend from Japan? He certainly didn't _look_ gruesome. His kimono was comprised of solemn blues and black. I glanced around the room; most people were dressed in dark blues, green, black and the occasional red. It would seem that by dressing me in white, Mom had also intended to make me stand out.

"Do you remember me? I met you when you were little." So that's why he was familiar looking. Even so, I've met hundreds of my uncle's friends and they all looked pretty similar. I couldn't be expected to remember every single one of them.

"You seem familiar, but I can't say that I remember you." He smiled warmly and offered a hand. But the smile never reached his eyes—I didn't like him.

"I'm Katsura Kogoro. Shinsaku always speaks of you fondly." I shook his hand politely, careful not to end the image that I was the nice, marriageable, naïve little girl that my mother dressed me up to be. There was a calculated amusement lurking behind his eyes and I could see that I had failed to give a bad impression. Dammit.

"Although, Shinsaku described you as very talkative; am I disturbing you?" I flushed. I wasn't talking because I didn't want to. How ironic. The man that I was trying to avoid had found me anyway. To the casual observer he was nice enough, but I was not a casual observer. I was on the verge of remembering something important; something that told me that Katsura Kogoro was not all that he seemed.

"Katsura, there you are! We were looking for you!" Booming loudly, Uncle Shin rushed over frantically and, for lack of better word, smacked Katsura on the back. There was a blatant display of relief on Uncle Shin's face. I didn't pay as much attention to my uncle, however, as I did to the man behind Uncle Shin.

It was him. Oh joy.

"And I see you've met the raccoon!" I turned my attention back to my uncle who proceeded to wrap me in a bear hug. My ribs protested as he continued to squeeze what little air the kimono had left in my lungs. Katsura let out a laugh and _he_ wore an impassive mask. If it surprised him that Shinsaku Takasugi was hugging me, he didn't let it show.

"I…can't…breathe!!" Laughing, Uncle Shin let go and with his hand on my shoulder guided me towards _him_.

"This is my niece Kaoru," mirth fading somewhat from his voice, Uncle Shin took on a more solemn tone, "_This_ is the one I told you about." Bowing slightly, I noticed that he wore a daisho in his hakama. Of course, many of the men were wearing swords—but most of them were fake. I had a lingering feeling that his were real.

K. Himura…we meet again.

"Tanuki-chan, this is my good friend Kenshin Himura. I told you about him at the museum." Looking him over, I understood why my mother thought him to be gruesome. Dressed in a white hakama and dark blue gi, he radiated an air of icy unfriendliness that seemed to burn hatefully in his gaze. Hair swept up into a samurai's topknot, his very presence sent unpleasant chills up my spine. He must have frightened my gentle mother senseless.

"Haven't we met before?" To my surprise, I was the one who had spoken. Two weeks earlier I would have nearly died of fright…now…I was testing the waters. A thrill of exhilaration rippled through my body.

Judging by the surprise on Uncle Shin and Katsura-san's faces, it shocked them too. Whether or not my quiet outburst surprised Kenshin, I couldn't tell. There was no visible reaction to my claim, and only the barest flicker of caution in his eyes told his true feelings toward the situation.

Apparently he hadn't told Uncle Shinsaku about me. Or the fact that I had bore 'witness' to his crime.

I could feel my lips twitch into a slight smile as I met his demonic gaze. Amber eyes flashing with turmoil, I already knew what he was thinking. He could either confess that I had bore witness to his criminal nature, or he could lie, and deny that he had murdered anyone. I already knew what answer he would give.

"You must have me mistaken for someone else." There was an edge to his voice and a glower in his eyes. Probably meant to silence me from divulging the truth behind his deception; I was no fool.

"Ah, my mistake then," I bowed silently before turning to Uncle Shin, "If you'll excuse me, I'll go see Dad. I haven't seen him in a while," I turned back to face the brooding red-head, "Nice to meet you…Kenshin."

His face blanched at my familiar usage of his name.

Ah, how nice it is to be one up your adversary.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Megumi had shown up a little later than she had promised, and she had shown up solo. When I had questioned her about it, she'd turned into a bright tomato and began spewing foul curses that would have made the most experienced sailor cringe. Perhaps it was selfish of me, but I was secretly relieved that her date didn't show up. We kept each other company until she and Misao left a quarter of an hour ago.

The cake had been cut, the presents had been opened, and most of the guests had left. The few that remained were family, my father's assistant Gohei Hiruma, Katsura-san, and of course, Kenshin. It was funny; Now that I knew his name, he seemed less intimidating than I had thought him to be.

"Damn you Kamiya! I'll not be thwarted this time!" Aoshi and I turned our gazes to Uncle Shin's loud outburst. Aoshi owned the Aoiya and lived in the apartment above the restaurant. It was the only reason we could afford such an expensive party at one of New York City's most expensive restaurants.

"It looks as if Father will make an ass out of Shinsaku-san again." Aoshi smirked. It was family tradition that after all the guests had gone home Uncle Shin and Dad would have a drinking match. Dad usually won.

"Who knows? Dad drank a lot during dinner and Uncle Shin's been wanting revenge since last Christmas." I linked my arm through Aoshi's. He had always been too much of a cold fish, and had never really warmed up to Uncle Shin. Besides Dad, Mom, myself and Misao, Aoshi had never really warmed up to anyone and even then he could be quite frigid. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he wasn't really my blood brother, but rather, my adopted one. Or maybe, it had to do with the circumstances in which he became my brother.

"I don't like Shinsaku-san's friend." Surprised, I was disturbed to see Aoshi's glare directed towards Katsura. I felt my brow furrow with confusion; what made him say that? I would have expected him to say that about Kenshin. As if reading my mind, he blatantly stated, "I don't like the redhead either."

"Why do you say that?"

"…Rumors." With that, Aoshi shut his mouth and it was clear that he would not elaborate further on the topic. I wasn't seeing something, but Aoshi saw it clearly. His dark eyes stayed focused on Katsura, jaw tightening ever so slightly.

"Tanuki-girl! Get over here and pour the sake for your uncle!" I threw an apologetic glance to Aoshi, who merely kept his fierce gaze on Katsura.

"You could come with me and watch."

"I'd prefer not." Rolling my eyes, I grudgingly trudged over to where Uncle Shin glared across the table at my father.

"Using my own daughter against me…that's low, even for you." Dad laughed uproariously and Mom wore a grimace as she poured the sake for my father. Mom never really got into the whole holiday sake competition. Maybe because Dad would be hunched over a toilet later, puking all of this back up. As much as she hated the competition, she usually came around later on, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to verbally abuse Uncle Shin.

Uncle Shinsaku threw the cup to his lips and as the warm sake poured down his throat his hand brought the tiny sake cup crashing down upon the table. Taking this as my cue, I pushed back the sleeves of my kimono and refilled his sake dish. His eyes were upon me. I didn't have to look at him to know that he was looking at me.

Kenshin sat rigidly next to Katsura. His eyes boring right through me, I began to feel quite unnerved. Apparently my connection to Uncle Shinsaku was not something he had considered as part of the equation. I fought down a smile; Kenshin was treading softly on volatile ground. I could feel it.

On the other side of Katsura was Gohei Hiruma. He was tall and swarthy, reminding me faintly of the pirate Captain Blackbeard. Most noticeable was the seedy, sycophantic smile that always graced his face and the small beady eyes that accompanied it. He gave me the creeps. Momentarily locking eyes with him, I shuddered.

"TANUKI—REFILL!" Uncle Shin was red in the face, and was beginning to feel the effects of the sake. He had never been one to hold his alcohol very well, and I had misgivings about letting him play the game at all. But the point of the game was to get piss ass drunk, and you couldn't very well get drunk without alcohol. Scowling, I poured his sake.

"My daughter is not a raccoon. You're the fucking raccoon." Dad was pink in his cheeks as he held his sake dish to Mom. Sighing obligingly, she poured the sake before frowning. I bit my lip nervously; usually by the third or fourth refill Mom was fully into the Uncle Shin bashing.

Six rounds later, Uncle Shin was down for the count and Dad was sharing a sloppy victory dance with an exasperated Mom. Katsura was in deep conversation with Kenshin and Gohei was nowhere to be found. I grimaced as Uncle Shin drooled on the table. Uncle Shin wouldn't be waking up anytime soon.

THUD.

"Kaoru, help me move your dumbass of a father upstairs." Mom had her arms hooked under Dad's armpits as she dragged him along the floor. Walking as fast as my kimono would allow, I bent down to pick up his feet. I glanced back towards my prostrate Uncle.

"Aoshi, bring Uncle Shin up too. He'll have a hangover in the morning." I turned back to the task at hand and struggled not to trip in my geta or to lose my grip on Dad's legs. Behind me I could hear Aoshi's quiet footsteps fall behind us. Finally, we managed to dump Dad onto Aoshi's bed. Vaguely, I heard Uncle Shin's body plopping onto Aoshi's spare futon. Mom gasped and I turned around.

Aoshi hadn't carried Uncle Shin up. Instead, Katsura had. He smiled apologetically and Mom smiled back graciously. It figured; Aoshi held an intense dislike for Uncle Shin. He had most likely felt leaving Uncle Shin downstairs was more appealing.

"May I speak to your mother in private for a moment?" I nodded and hastily made my way out of the room and down the stairs. I didn't really want to be in the same room with Katsura anyway. To my surprise, the Aoiya was empty and the lights had been turned off. Apparently Aoshi had closed up and left, trusting us to take care of the rest. He must have kicked out Kenshin and Gohei as well. I smirked; he'd mostly gone off to see Misao.

Although I now knew that Uncle Shin and Kenshin were friends, I hadn't found out much about what connected Kenshin and Uncle Shin to Saitou, and now Katsura. There was something weaving them all together, something unspoken but clearly there. The way that Kenshin stuck rigidly to Katsura's side, the fact that Uncle Shin had been searching so desperately for Katsura before finding him with me, the way that my parents pushed for me to impress, and Aoshi's intense dislike for Katsura. KATSURA, KATSURA, KATSURA! There was something important about him—something that I was missing. Sighing, I decided to take the shortcut through the kitchen and into the alley.

Clang. Clink. Clash.

I froze. As sure as the earth was round, there were flashes of moonlight glinting off metal as two men fought with swords. Or more accurately, the glint of swords as Kenshin fought off Gohei's vicious attacks. With Kenshin's back to me, Gohei's eyes glinted evilly.

A mighty battle cry erupted from Gohei's chest as he jumped past a distracted Kenshin. Eyes glittering with malice, his weathered hand gripped the front of my kimono. I unwillingly found myself in a tight headlock and a sword to my throat.

"You know I'll kill her _Battousai._ I'll slit her pretty little neck—just like I did to _them. _You remember don't you? How their blood spilled like…" There was a quality to Gohei's voice that told me he wasn't lying. Yet, even so there was no flicker of emotion on Kenshin's face.

"Hiruma Gohei, I have come to deliver Heavenly Justice. Your life ends here." Gohei grunted dubiously. The moonlight glinted off of Kenshin's sword...and then…

…the next thing I knew was that there was something hot and sticky splattered across my hands, hair, face and Mom's white kimono. Behind me, Gohei Hiruma lay dead. His head was severed from the rest of his body, his face disfigured with an unnamable expression. I had happened to fast for me to see.

"You are more troublesome than I expected."

Slowly, I brought my gaze from the corpse to face of Gohei's murderer. The same sticky substance dripped from his sword—I had been right, he had known how to use them. Long, crimson strands glittered like rubies in the moonlight, but brighter than the moon itself, those deep amber eyes flashed menacingly.

"Y-you killed him." He let out a bark of sharp laughter. I found myself backing away from him, seeking the safety of the brick alley wall. The next moment found his katana at my throat.

The blade was cool and warm at the same time. Cool like the steel that it was, warm because of the fading influence of Gohei's blood. It pressed against my skin, not hard enough to cut, but hard enough to burn. From the blade, I could feel the aura of death pulsating but…

"You saw me kill Kihei Hiruma. This should come as no surprise." My breath caught in my throat. I hadn't specifically seen anything. I'd merely heard him shoot someone and mistakenly thought the gunfire to be thunder. But Saitoh had said I'd played witness to the murder of Takeda Kanryuu…not Kihei Hiruma…

"Are you going to kill me?" Amber eyes narrowed as Kenshin grit his teeth. Gripping the hilt of his katana, he spat in my face and threw me to the blood soaked cement. His blade lusted for blood but…

The blade lusted for blood, but Kenshin did not.

He seemed to float over the ground as he stalked away from me and some part of my twisted mind found it humorous how delicately he stepped over Gohei's dead body. Crouched down on all four limbs, I looked up to see Kenshin eyeing the watch on his wrist. After a few minutes, a shady figure skulked into the alleyway. He was dressed garishly in a pair of purple velvet pants and a red muscle shirt, but it was his long, blonde hair which oddly resembled a broomstick that caught my eye. Eying Gohei's corpse, he whistled.

"Jesus Himura. You really did a number on this guy. Though, it's not as bad as what you did to that turd Raijuuta," He turned his attention to me and smiled crookedly, "Huh, You must be Takasugi's niece. Sure hate to be you tonight—" In an instant, the shady figure found Kenshin's sword pointed at his throat.

"Sawagejo-san, you're here to clear the body."

"R-r-right." The man hurriedly grabbed Gohei's severed head, which had been sitting a few inches in front of my hands. As he left, the overpowering smell of blood filled my nostrils as I finally registered what had happened. I vomited.

"Where's Iizuka-san?" Kenshin seemed annoyed and Sawagejo-san shuffled his feet nervously. Kenshin wasn't fazed by the fact that my stomach was heaving up my dinner, and if he was, he was a very good actor. Sawagejo-san, on the other hand...looked like he was ready to jump out of his skin.

"He's busy cleaning up the mess Shishio made." The blonde man cringed and Kenshin waved him off. His eyes darted back and forth between Kenshin, and me vomiting before he bolted out of the alleyway to get help.

Vomiting had left an acrid taste in my mouth and left me heaving for breath of fresh air. However, this alley had become entrenched with the stench of blood, death and vomit—it was enough to make my toes curl. As if noticing my plight for the first time, Kenshin stood there uncomfortably and rather uncharacteristically indecisive. Finally, he made the first tentative steps in my direction.

"You're to come with me." Kenshin's feet came into my line of vision, and I looked up incredulously. He actually expected me to go with him? His lips were pursed, an obvious look of disdain and reluctance. He seemed just as wary of the idea as I was…

Softly, tiny drops of water fell from the sky. It was raining again—it always rained when he was around. Whenever he was around, things always got complicated and morbid. Whenever he was around, there was never any sunshine, or at least, I had never seen him in good weather. Perhaps, I eyed him thoughtfully; he was the bringer of pain and suffering.

"What?" I hadn't realized I'd said it aloud. His eyes slanted with anger, his voice quaking with silent fury.

"You really do leave nothing but pain in your wake. Look," I pointed towards the rain falling gently from the sky, "Your mother in heaven is crying."

I don't remember anything after that except for the hurt written so clearly in dark blue eyes.

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AN: I'm done with chapter four! Yay- w00t! I've actually had this chapter for a while but it went through some tweaking. I've already started with chapter five. But by the way this plot is heading, I might have to up the rating in later chapters.

So there…I dropped some more ambiguous clues. Kaoru's not that fast on the uptake though so it'll be a while before she remembers where she heard the name Katsura from. That and I finally got Kenshin and Kaoru in a situation where the actual bonding can start. Until now, the chapters have had relatively large time gaps between them…Starting from the next chapter that's going to change a bit…hehehehe…

I apologize if the plot is a little confusing. Once again, it's really hard to write a full blown plot like this from _one_ person's perspective. So basically, you're only seeing what Kaoru sees and it'll only be revealed when Kaoru realizes the truth. If you're noticing incongruence with what Saitoh told Kaoru and what Kenshin tells Kaoru, then you're on the right track. All will be revealed in time. Hmm…maybe to add more insight and clear it up, I might write a sequel to this from Kenshin's point of view. Maybe.

Right…I'm also looking for someone who might wanna be a BETA reader for me and help me catch mistakes/help out with plot ideas blah blah blah…

I'm going to Korea on Friday, and depending on if I can get internet access on my laptop, I'll either post in about a week or so, or next month. I hate planes…

Please read and review. If you review, my brains will produce endorphins. And endorphins make me happy. And a happy tanuki writes faster than a morose one.

Thanks to all those who reviewed:

Linay: I am glad you like the fic and hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. I did some more foreshadowing in this chapter in the scenario with Katsura's request for a private talk with Kaoru's mother and with Aoshi's character as well. ) heehee

Nekotsuki: :D…There are a lot of fictions that just…jump into the romance where Kenshin and Kaoru are bitter at first, fall in love within two chapters and get to the kissing and groping by the third or fourth. Kissing, love confessions and groping are good and all…but getting them there to that point is just as, if not more, fun.

Ayame in Kouga-hating mode: I feel that way too. I'm always blown away by the tiny details that I missed that actually are really important in the end.

Nobody: ) Is Kenshin really trailing her? Or was he just there at an opportune moment and time? Like I said up there, its really hard to write a plot when all you have is the restricted view of one character. I'll clear up that whole issue within the next few chapters though…

Omata: Of course Kaoru wouldn't huddle. But it's unrealistic to believe that she would be strong and stand tall right away. I mean…no matter how strong you are, I think witnessing a murder would make you rather paranoid and nervous, which is why she was kind of weird in chapter two.

Blue Jeans: Kenshin will be very retaliatory in future chapters. wink. Kaoru's hand in the table will eventually turn out to be very important…but not just yet.

Lightning-storm: XD Gradual is fun to write.

Jouko-chan: Your review made me smile. While the mystery is fun, I hope I do well on writing the actual romance part. XX;

Nguardian: Yes heehee…clues are like bread crumbs…and I'm holding the basket, carefully making a trail for you all to follow. Plus…I think stories that make you think are more fulfilling than stories which instantly gratify. But instant gratification can also be at times, very good.

Flaming-amber: Uncle Shinsaku has many, many uses as both a guiding character, devil's advocate and is charming in his own right. Probably even more important that Katsura as the fic progresses.

Cincygurl22: Knowing me, I'm going to draw out this romance for about 13204723908234 meetings. Don't worry…that's an exaggeration…;


	5. Photograph

Rain

By: Psychotic Tanuki

A/N: looking for anyone who'd be willing to BETA this story for me. Email me if you want the job; you can click my pen name to get the email address.

Chapter Five: Photograph

I hate kimonos. There was a _reason_ why people invented the yukata but leave it up to a man to forget such things. Sure, kimonos are _pretty_ but what little beauty I formerly saw in the traditional garment had evaporated into thin air. You try sleeping in one. I assure you, if you did, you too would hate them as much as I do.

I rubbed my aching back. My muscles were abused and battered, and any physical movement hurt. Hell, even _breathing_ hurt. Still, I was relieved that he'd left me in a kimono rather than changed me into something else. That would have meant he'd have had to undress me, and _that_ was something that I didn't want to think about.

But now all I wanted a change of clothes. Mom's kimono, which had been formerly pure as driven snow, was crusted with dried blood. The angry brown stain resembled a long trail of splotches; some dotted the white surface, others soaked it until you couldn't see the white anymore. My only comfort was that it wasn't my blood soaking the kimono.

The metallic scent of blood hadn't disappeared either; partly because it clung to Mom's kimono, partly because I still had dry blood crusted all over my face, hands and hair, but mostly because all I could see was that scene over and over again.

The glint of moonlight on cold steel; a demonic silhouette bathed in ethereal light; the feel of a blade against my throat; the harsh sneer in his voice.

I had been so sure that he was going to kill me. Yet, I was still here sitting on a bed in an unfamiliar room god knows how far away from home. It was a small simple room, nothing more than a twin bed, a dresser and a lamp. The décor left something to be desired as well—there was nothing but bare, white walls and a hardwood floor.

The bed lay pushed up against a wall and the lamp was so thoughtfully stuck in the farthest corner of the room from the bed. At the foot of the bed was a mahogany dresser and at the other side of the room, was the door. Everything except for the lamp was as far away from the door as they could possibly be and still remain within the confines of the room. A fact which only attested that this room belonged to Kenshin—only an assassin would be afraid of a door and just who might step through it.

Even if the bed had been placed right next to the wall, I would have still known it was Kenshin's room. It reeked of his presence—a tense air that was thick with masculine simplicity that belied a darker strength. He was present in the walls, the lamp, the bed—the very air I breathed.

Carefully, I pushed aside the thick dark blue blanket and set my feet onto the hardwood floor. While he hadn't slipped me into something more comfortable to sleep in, he had let me sleep in his bed. I suppose that was kind of treatment that I would receive from Kenshin; only what I needed, nothing more. With that thought in mind, I walked cautiously towards the door.

Outside this door could be an apartment, a house, a shack—anything. I could still be in Manhattan, or I could be somewhere in another state depending on how long I had conked out. How far away from home was I? Were Mom and Dad worried? Was Aoshi okay? How would Megumi react? The questions grew louder and more forceful as I placed my hand on the doorknob and opened the door.

There was no hallway—just a big rectangular room which was longer than it was wide. There were some other doors to my left and right but I hadn't the faintest clue as to where they would lead. Beyond the doors to my left was a small open kitchenette and a wooden table; to my right was a leather sofa which faced an obnoxiously small television set. Sprinkled around the rest of the room were other necessities such as a bookcase and a coat rack.

Yup, Kenshin was most definitely a minimalist.

Further past the television, however, was a simple fireplace with a sword rack on top of its mantle. Two shiny black sheaths of a wakizashi and katana stared straight at me; I was not unused to the sight of swords for Dad had two swords exactly like these at home too. Even so, I found myself walking across the room until I was directly in front of the fireplace.

The two swords reminded me of the beaten up sakabatou I'd seen at the museum. Not that these two swords were beat up—they were in pristine condition. The lacquered sheaths were polished until there wasn't a single spot or fingerprint visible, and undoubtedly the blade was probably polished until you could see your own reflection. However, emanating from the seemingly ceremonial swords was a raw power that was both dark and frightening. Whereas the sakabatou had been a source of quiet strength, these swords were a source of bloodthirsty malice.

"They're good swords. Don't you agree?" Sitting leisurely on Kenshin's sofa was Katsura Kogoro, dressed impeccably in a suit and tie, his long hair bunched into an elegant ponytail at the nape of his neck. I shook my head; I almost didn't recognize him in modern day clothing.

I hadn't noticed him sitting on the sofa before. Had he been there the entire time, or had he slipped in while I was observing Kenshin's swords? What was he doing in Kenshin's apartment in the first place?

"They're tainted. Like their owner." Katsura, who'd been sipping from a mug, promptly sputtered as if I'd punched him in the stomach. Obviously, he hadn't expected me to say _that, _but then again, neither had I. I was doing that a lot lately.

"What makes you say that?"

"Can't you feel it? They reek of evil. They're corrupting their owner." Again, the things I say aloud are never what I want to say. They're things I don't even want to think about—and most of the time, things I don't even _know_ I think about. Ever since I was little I had a tendency to say things that made people, as well as myself uncomfortable. Normally I wouldn't say things like that out loud; not since the _incident_ right before Aoshi was adopted. But ever since I met Kenshin, I was blurting out strange things left and right.

Katsura peered at me through guarded eyes, as if something he didn't believe was coming true before his very eyes. Very cautiously, he set down his coffee mug. I didn't like his train of thought, or at least, what looked like his train of thought.

"You're as strange as Shinsaku said you were. I didn't quite believe him when he said you'd stolen his title of 'black sheep of the family.'" That's because it wasn't something that obvious unless you were part of the family. Besides Uncle Shin, no one outside my immediate family had taken a liking to either me or Aoshi. They didn't like Aoshi because wasn't very friendly but I didn't know why they didn't like me. Even so, things were much easier if we placed the title on Uncle Shin, and he had always accepted it willingly—even if he wasn't really the black sheep anymore.

"Why are you here? This is Kenshin's home isn't it?" Katsura, once again choked on his coffee letting me know that I was indeed, correct.

"What makes you think that?"

"The décor…" I motioned to the bare white walls and vast amounts of empty space, "is lacking. You don't seem like a man of such simplistic tastes." Katsura chuckled a laugh of relief, seemingly happy I hadn't given a strange answer like my last one.

"You sound like you know him. Himura's running an errand for me now. I had been meaning to speak with you." I could feel my brow arch in a skeptical manner; what could he possibly try to say that would 'explain' without truly 'explaining' what had happened last night? What clever ruse would Katsura use to try and dupe me? That was the only logical reason Katsura would request to talk to me; to try and make me agree to never speak about Hiruma Gohei's murder.

"What you saw last night, don't forget it." I could feel my brows descend from their skeptical arches and furrow in confusion. Whatever I had expected him to say, _that_ had not been it.

"Well…I think it's quite hard to forget someone getting _decapitated_." Katsura chuckled good-naturedly and my earlier apprehension of him returned full blast. No matter how well I played my cards, at this point, Katsura would always be one step ahead. It didn't take a genius to see that he was going to feed me filtered information to try and manipulate me. You could tell by the way he kept reaching for his coffee mug and the amused glint in his eyes. He didn't take me seriously enough.

"I wasn't talking about the murder—that you're free to forget. I was talking about Himura." The humor was gone from his eyes and his voice became heavy with ruthlessness. While normally a quite handsome man, Katsura transformed into someone quite subtly, yet powerfully frightening… _this_ was the man that psychopathic killers, my parents and my uncle blindly obeyed. I didn't blame them.

"He's also quite hard to forget."

"I wasn't talking about the assassin Himura. I was talking about the man Himura. You know; the one that brought you here last night?" He stared at me pointedly, trying to get me to understand something that I didn't quite comprehend—yet again. I was getting tired of not understanding things that were happening to and around me. Taking in my reaction, Katsura sighed.

"You've already forgotten haven't you? Shinsaku told me about that too." I bristled; excuse me for not having a photographic memory. Besides…the man was the assassin—I had no clear indication that pointed otherwise.

"It's alright; but you're to stay here for the time being under strict confinement. Things are not…safe outside of these walls. Himura will guard you—and I've already spoken with your parents and Colombia University has officially granted you a sabbatical. Good day." He was leaving before I could even utter a protest.

At that precise moment, Kenshin stepped through the door and bowed briefly before Katsura, who merely nodded and walked through the door and down…a flight of stairs? Most apartments that I know of didn't open up to a flight of stairs…and houses didn't have kitchens on the second floor…

"It's the upper floor above _The Fishbone_. My friend owns the diner. This is his place." He must have seen my confusion because he'd explained without me prompting him. Instantaneously, I knew which diner he was talking about—it was the diner where that chicken headed rooster waited at. Likewise, I had a pretty good guess as to who his 'friend' was. Now I was inclined to believe that the minimalist décor was also inspired by a low budget as much as it was by Kenshin's personality.

Kenshin deposited his heavy black trench coat onto the empty coat rack I'd observed earlier—along with his shoulder holsters with two very unfriendly looking guns. I'd never taken the time of day to notice his wardrobe before, but it, like his 'apartment', was quite drab. Black shirt, black pants, black shoes—it contrasted sharply with his pale skin and made his dark crimson hair stand out more than it already did. To put it nicely, he looked gothic. To put it bluntly, he looked like the freaking undead.

And without even recognizing that I existed, he brushed past me and into his room. Ah…the infamous 'cold shoulder.' The prick viewed me as a waste of space, and an unwanted burden. Well, it wasn't as if _I_ wanted to be here either and _he_ wasn't at the top of my "People-I-enjoy-spending-prolonged-periods-of-time-with" list either. Jackass.

He had some nerve. If he thought he could just kidnap me, and then blatantly _ignore_ me, he had another thing coming. Subconsciously, it registered that I had inherited Mom's short temper. It also registered that I inherited Dad's complete disregard of my subconscious and tendency to make stupid decisions. What did it matter? I'd already followed him into his room.

Like I said, I had a tendency to say things that upset people. Not intentionally, or at least most of the time it wasn't intentional. Still, at this point in time, the last thing a sane person would do is to piss off a crazy assassin. But regarding Kenshin, I had already shown time and time again that I was not exactly a sane person.

"So, did you decapitate this guy or chop him into twelve pieces? Riddle him with holes perhaps?"

He turned around abruptly clenching his jaw and fists, probably trying his best not to snap. Dark amber eyes rivaled that of a cat and if looks could kill, I'd be long past dead. I suppose it was a look made most men wet their pants—but somehow, it didn't look right on him. Somehow—I couldn't remember exactly why—those demonic eyes were the wrong color. And that irked me.

Unperturbed by my lack of fear, Kenshin's face was dark with righteous fury; an unbridled sense of anger that threatened to overwhelm my senses. It was almost as if his anger could manifest itself in the air, but I threw away such a silly notion. Who'd ever heard of anger manifesting itself outside of the body?

"Something tells me you didn't have much fun."

"Bitch." He hissed angrily as if I'd wronged him in some way. Hah. As if _I_ had done _him_ wrong—if _anybody_ had been wronged during this whole fiasco, it had been _me._ Maybe I was just a tad angry and taking out a bit of my three-and-a-half-month-long, pent up frustration on him. Maybe I really was a bitch. Maybe I was just PMS-ing. Who knows, maybe it was a combination of all three. At the moment, I didn't really care.

"So who was it? Politician? Innocent bystander?" I glanced over at a small picture frame that I had formerly not seen on the dresser. As I made my way towards the picture frame, I was taken aback by the picture. It was a picture of a group of kids in their late teens, kids my age (I was nineteen thank you very much); one of which was Kenshin.

Of course, the Kenshin in the picture looked quite different than the one standing a few feet away from me, ready to rip my head off. His hair, for one, was much shorter and a much brighter shade of red—more like a flaming shade of orange. That and his eyes were dark violet in color, unlike the demonic shade of amber that I had come to know. The most noticeable difference, however, was the blatant innocence and the gargantuan smile on his face as he embraced a rather pretty girl.

The girl, of course, was a classic Japanese beauty. She was blessed with long dark hair, mysterious almond shaped eyes, an elegant wardrobe and a beautiful, yet graceful smile to offset his goofy one. Judging by the happy smiles, I guessed with a twinge of shock, that she was his old flame. Although, I glanced through my peripheral vision at the assassin, if he still kept a picture of her by his bed, he was probably still infatuated with her. I picked the frame up and held it in his view.

"Or perhaps your old girlfriend?" As soon as the words left my mouth, I found myself wishing that I could take them back. As it had been with Gohei, he'd moved too fast for me to see but the next thing I knew, was that I was crushed against the wall—his hands grasped firmly around my neck.

"Don't you even _dare_ suggest that I would kill Tomoe." Yup…_definitely_ still into her. Whilst Kenshin normally had a calm, icy, even somewhat handsome face, it had contorted into that of complete and utter fury making him quite unattractive. Then again, the most beautiful person in the world could make a face like that and become ugly. Heck, to illicit _that_ kind of face, maybe he was still in _love_ with her.

His grip around my neck however, _that_ was painful. I'd heard somewhere (most likely from Megumi) that death by strangulation was quite gruesome, and I had no desire to die in a gruesome way. Bringing my hands to try and dislodge his hands from my throat, I noticed that my feet were dangling. Black spots began to creep into the sides of my vision occasionally creating moments of complete darkness before I was brought back to the sight of horrible topaz colored eyes.

Yes, I think I was quite certifiably insane.

"Jesus! Kenshin! What the hell are you doing?!"

The air had never tasted as sweet as it did at that moment. I greedily sucked in more of that precious air and gently massaged my tender neck. Loud shouts between Kenshin and another man reverberated through my brain, but I paid no attention.

Black edges began to obscure my vision. Wearily, I realized that I was going to black out _again_. I was getting really tired of fainting and blacking out. In fact, this was going to be the last time I _ever_ black out until my dying day. A few inches in front of me, was a shattered picture frame and a picture of a group of teenaged kids.

Although the Kenshin in the picture was quite happy, _she_ was not. The woman named 'Tomoe' was smiling yes, but her eyes were lonely—scared even. They were pleading for freedom, begging for liberation from a cage of her own lies. They were looking for something that was missing; they were looking for a place to belong. I know because I'd seen that look so many times before. Only this time, it was a picture of someone else and not my own.

AN: Gah. I was gonna go on for more, but thought that this was a good place to end this chapter. This chapter dropped a major hint about Kaoru, but no, she doesn't have any super powers or anything—just astute perception and a keen intuition. I also introduced Tomoe and let Kenshin's dark and bloody past begin to unravel itself. The next chapter hails the return of the Roosterhead wink.

And if you're wondering why Kaoru didn't freak that she was kidnapped or try to escape, that's to be explained in the next chapter.

I had an okay time in Korea [marred by the fact that we had to spend a LOT time at the hospital] but I had a bitch of a time trying to get internet access. Even when I got internet access I couldn't get it on my laptop where I had written this chapter. Then I got jet lag and then wouldn't let me log in…gah. So after much delay, this chapter is up and six will be ready soon.

Reviewers:

Ayame, in Kouga hating mode- Hm……maybe Kaoru's mom will get mad…then again the white kimono has not made its last appearance in this fic. )

MZ. Amber EYES- Well…judging by this chapter she's not only kick ass, but suicidal too. I keep noticing that Kaoru's getting more sarcastic as the fic progresses. XX: not exactly what I'd intended though...Though I think she'll mellow out a bit after a certain "incident"

Reignashii- ) Sano says hello from the next chapter. Heehee…

Rain angst- XD I love the pen name. It's perfect for this story… haha…Although writing this story is becoming one of my favorite things to do during the day.

SesshaWaRurouni- :D Yay. I'm always glad to find people willing to tag along for the entire ride.

nobody- sorry about the 'n' capitalization! I blame Microsoft Word's auto correct XX; Ahhhh as for Aoshi's dark and complex past, all I'll say at this moment is that it ties in directly with Kenshin's dark, complex and bloody past. :]

Neko Oni-chan- As much as I'd love to write a lighter-hearted fic someday, I think my talent lies with the dark stuff. It's much easier for me than comedy. XD I took your advice about Kaoru picking up some bitchiness though, as clearly demonstrated during this chapter. I find however, that the Kaoru in this fic constantly changes from chapter to chapter and in some ways, that solidifies her character. XX; Kenshin's actually harder to write and I agonized over him snapping at Kaoru during this chapter since he's been rather icy during the last few. Then again…Kaoru's never really provoked him before either. But it ain't the last time for sure.

Flaming-amber- Haa…there'll be more action as things move along. Though, I think if I have Kaoru black out _one_ more time, I think she'll throw a hissy fit. I know I would if stuff like that kept happening to me.

Omata- Don't worry about it. I didn't really think it was disparaging, although maybe I wrote my reply a bit defensively? XX; I liked writing Kaoru's mom as well, and based her a bit after my own. As for this story, Kaoru is a normal girl placed in an abnormal situation. :D

The evil witch- That's okay, at least you reviewed :D. And here's chapter five, hope you enjoyed.

Jouko-chan- A Beta reader is someone who reads my work hot off the press and helps me edit. I've been doing my own editing thus far but whenever I read back I find something I've missed and I figure it would help to get some help. XD I went to South Korea because it's crazy hard to get into North Korea—that and Kim Jong Il is just whack. Glad you like that it's in the first person perspective; It makes me feel like my hard work is paying off :D.

Misumi kanegawa- Well its been about two weeks since I updated. Hope that was soon enough :D.

Nguardian: :D. Yay! I was pleased to see that someone remembered where Kaoru had heard Katsura's name before. Katsura will definitely play a humongous role in this story—so humungous that I think he just might be the most pivotal character in forming Kenshin and Kaoru's relationship. Him, Sanosuke and Tomoe.

Fresa- I would tend to agree. Fate may bring people together, and you may be "meant to meet each other" but it's two people's choices to stay together and love each other. Funny you should bring that point up because later during the fic you'll see how "meant to be" failed for Kenshin and Tomoe and "fated to meet" turns out for Kenshin and Kaoru.

Now click that "Submit a Review button" and make a Psychotic Tanuki happy. :D pretty please?


	6. Blue

Rain

By: Psychotic Tanuki

Disclaimer: I just noticed I forgot to put these up for the last five chapters. How stupid could I be? Duh, you guys know the drill. Don't own, don't claim to—these guys belong to Watsuki. Let's just say that this disclaimer is for the first five chapters too...

Chapter Six: Blue

_"Kaoru, stop squirming. This won't hurt at all." _

_The voice was loud, booming almost, and turned my blood to chilled ice. It held no warmth hidden within its depths, no reassuring tones to convince me of the supposed truth of his words. This voice grated against my ears like rough gravel; it made me want to go home to Mama._

_There was no possible way that this **couldn't** hurt. The complex drill was positioned impassively millimeters away from my right eye, disjointing my perception of the world. Out of my right eye, I could see the thin needlepoint and the silver chrome of a massive drill, which was bent perpendicular to my eye. Out of my left, I could see a wizened old man looming above me with a twinge of regret in his harried countenance. _

_I willed my body to move, but no matter how much I tried, the most I could do twitch a couple of fingers. Even if I could move, what could I possibly do? Either way, no matter what I did my right eye was doomed to be skewered by the drill. _

_Icy cold terror gripped my heart in its long, unrelenting fingers. I didn't want to die. I didn't want to get skewered through my right eye. I wanted to get out, to escape, to run away—but I was trapped within my own body. I needed to move, to escape this nightmare but I couldn't. My heart thudded against my ribcage as my stomach churned violently as nausea slipped its way up into my throat. _

_"Ma-ma-mama...?" My voice sounded foreign as it tumbled from my mouth. It was young, childish even. What happened to my regular voice? _

_The drill emanated a cold vibe that could be felt radiating into my eye. I wasn't allowed to blink and so my right eye had grown horribly dry and scratchy which only intensified my terror of that god damned drill. _

_It whirred to life. A deafening metallic buzz that indicated the drill was in action; however, the drill made no motion to get any closer to my eye. Instead, a blinding light tore through my disjointed vision._

_A horrified old man shut his eyes and looked away, while another stared straight at me. His face was clear in the bright light of the room; cold and unmerciful. He held no regret that a mere child was strapped to a chair with a big scary drill blinding my right eye. Uncle Shin had said he was a nice man, but he'd lied to Uncle Shin. He was the one who had held a gun to the old man and told him to strap me into this machine. He was the one who gave the order to stick a drill in my eye. _

_"Don't forget these numbers Kaoru. They're very important." _

_The light flashed and through my disjointed vision, I could see a third man converging with the numbers the drill was imprinting into my mind._

_Deep blue eyes flashing into darker shades of azure..._

_51420056201977..._

_A scream_...

My eyes flew open and I was greeted by unfamiliar surroundings. Unlike my stay in Kenshin's room, I hadn't slept in a bed but rather, a rumpled futon. Where Kenshin's bedroom walls were bare, photographs cluttered the walls and pinned behind the door was the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition Calendar; a half naked, anorexically skinny model smiled seductively at me whilst basking in the tropical sun, and rubbing sand over her body. What caught my attention, however, was that the previous days had been "X-ed" off with a red Sharpie. Judging by the calendar, it was October 17th. Dad's Birthday had been on the 14th.

Cluttered around the floor was heaps of smelly clothing. A wide assortment of jeans, T-shirts, shorts and boxers were strewn across the floor on the far right of the room. At the foot of the futon was an old pizza box. Inside were the remains of the last piece of a half eaten slice of pepperoni pizza. Beyond were remnants of various Big Mac boxes, some of which had remainders of hamburgers in various stages of completion. Then, the swamped desk on the side opposite the mountain of dirty clothing was a desk swimming in a sea of white paper. I had heard that men could get messy, but I had never been subjected to it first hand. Aoshi was obsessive compulsive, and Dad was a neat freak.

_Click._ _Scree._

The jangle of keys and a door opening averted my attention.

"...don't question me. She had to be put in her god damned fucking place!"

Loud voices screamed through the air, followed by the slam of the front door. One screamed and sputtered while the other made chilly retorts laced with venom. Both voices were raised in anger so powerful, the walls seemed to shake. One belonged to Kenshin, but I didn't recognize who the other was. As to what they were arguing about? I had a vague suspicion that it might have been about me.

"But ya can't keep doin' shit like that when you get pissed off! Ya hafta to learn how ta keep your cool!" The low baritone roared loudly, and by the tone of exasperation I figured the man was tugging at his hair or perhaps bashing his head against a wall.

"You should take your own advice Sanosuke." Sanosuke? The name seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place exactly where I had heard it before. Perhaps it was the name of one of those Japanese singers Misao liked so much? Or maybe I had a cousin named Sanosuke?

"But at least I don't go around _strangling_ people when they mention my ex-flame!" So the woman in the picture _had_ been his old girlfriend. I vaguely wondered what type of woman would have been crazy enough to even _attempt_ a romantic relationship with the morose, brooding, psychotic sociopath red head. Perhaps it was purely physical; he seemed like a guy who would get into a relationship like that. He wasn't the type to get into romantic relationships.

"No, you just beat them into a pulp."

"_That_ is a different story. She's just a kid, can't be more than fifteen!"

Okay, maybe I wasn't as well developed as some other girls and maybe I didn't slather on massive amounts of makeup, but I was damn sure that I did _not_ look like a fourteen year old. It's because I was short—that was the only plausible reason I might seem younger than I looked. What did this Sanosuke look like huh? Who was _he _to judge what other people looked like? Tip-toeing through the maze of dirty clothing with respect to the confines of Mom's bloodied kimono, I made my way to the door. I grasped the cold doorknob and opened the door just wide enough so I could get a sneak peek the mysterious Sanosuke.

Looming over Kenshin, a tall man with rough, spiky tousled hair rubbed the bridge of his nose. Wrapped around his waist was a pink frilly floral-print apron and clutched in his other hand, was a rubber spatula. It was the same man who had given me chicken soup two weeks earlier.

Processing Sanosuke's retort through his head, Kenshin merely stared into the space in front of him, as if entranced by something neither Sanosuke nor I could see. The fine angular features of his face deepened as he drew his countenance into a slight frown of disapproval. Opening his mouth to speak, eyes that were once focused on the air in front of him slid over to where I stood crouched behind Sanosuke's door.

They were a dark russet color; a far cry from the demonic amber. Even so, they held a menacing glint, a hostile intent. Instinct told me I should have probably shut the door and pretended not to have heard anything, but Kenshin's eyes flashed ominously. Slowly, the dark russet color faded into the background as long fingerlike streaks of amber took its place. It reminded me of shattering glass, and soon the russet had completely dissipated.

Waves of negative energy emanated from his tense form while the air crackled with a frightening heaviness. His eyes were frigidly intense. They both made me burn and freeze at the same time. Eyes narrowed slightly, his upper lip curled into a snarl. No words were needed, he conveyed his message perfectly.

_Do not ask me for mercy for I shall give you none._

"Age is irrelevant." With that, he turned sharply on his heel and stalked out of my limited sight. Tearing myself away from the image of his retreating back, I stood with my back barely leaning against the slightly opened door. Not for the first time, a nagging feeling anchored itself in my chest. Those eyes were not supposed to be _that_ color. The floor, despite being cluttered with half eaten food and moldy clothing was oddly inviting. I fell to my knees.

Perhaps my abnormally rapid heartbeat convinced my body I was under stress, because I found myself gasping for air. Bracing myself, I kneeled and hunched my back over the floor, supporting my body weight with my arms. I clawed at the hardwood floor. How could that kind of hate be bottled up into a single human being?

"Hey, you okay?" A comforting hand rested on my back while Sanosuke knelt by my side. It was quite odd. His tall lanky body only loomed carefully over me, dwarfing me in comparison. That was probably why he had mistaken me for a fourteen year old--I was shorter than your average nineteen year old. To his credit, I hadn't heard him enter the room. For being so gargantuan, he was surprisingly very stealthy.

"Sorry ya had to hear all of that. Kenny gets a bit high strung when people talk about Tomoe. So don't feel too bad about him strangling ya and all. When she got married to Akira two years back he flipped his lid and broke my nose when I tried to tell him the bitch wasn't worth it..." Sanosuke rambled for a bit longer, his low voice tentative as he continued to hover over me. Occasionally, he'd shuffle his feet and fall into an uneasy silence before starting to talk again. He was most typically, a man. And from what I remember observing from Uncle Shin, Dad and Aoshi, men never know what the hell to do when a woman was in a state of inexplicable distress.

"So you're the one who stopped him?" I winced at the sound of my own voice. It was a bit hoarse, and my throat felt a burn that quickly turned into a hacking cough.

"Yeah," There was a proud, faraway quality to his voice as he rubbed my back, "That was me. Ya shouldn't try talkin' too much though...he musta banged up your pipes. It ain't anything too bad but you'll be a little croaky for a few days." If it wouldn't have hurt so much, I would have groaned. Lovely, now I could croak like a frog _and_ look like shit at the same time.

I pushed off of my hands so that I could kneel in an upright position. Responding to my shift in position, Sanosuke stood up. Yes, he was undoubtedly tall—around 6'2 or 6'3; just slightly shorter than Aoshi. The pink apron obscured a pair of torn black jeans and an old, used-to-be-white T-shirt. Around his forehead, he still wore the red bandana I'd seen him wear at the restaurant, only now I could see that its tattered ends traveled all the way down to the middle of his back. His face was very classic-rebel-like and obviously why _The Fishbone_ attracted so many teeny bopper girls. He was like a modern James Dean with spiky hair. Really—he would have been very masculine if he wasn't wearing a pink, frilly, floral apron, which I had just realized had a Hello Kitty plastered onto the side.

"Jeez. Ya look like someone dragged ya out of a sewer!" And obviously, he had no tact _whatsoever_. He ushered me with his large hands out of his room and towards the door at the end of the hall. "Lemme show ya to the bathroom; no offense lil' missy but ya need a shower! Ya can change into...uh..." Brows furrowed, Sanosuke placed a thoughtful arm on his hip, and used the other to scratch the back of his head in wonderment.

"Aha! Don't worry 'bout a change of clothes, Lil' Missy. I'll just put'em outside the bathroom door, so when you're done, you can just get'em." He shoved me into the bathroom after that and closed the door behind him. That was fine and dandy except for the fact the bathroom was the smallest one I'd seen in my entire life.

All within three inches of each other, the bathtub, sink/cabinet and toilet were crammed into a u-shape with the sink/cabinet on the left, the toilet in the center and the bathtub to my right. The door could barely open all the way as it just scarcely missed hitting the toilet. The shower curtain was a royal blue color with sky blue fishes decorated all over them, and was the only bit of color in the entire bathroom. Right above the sink/cabinet, there was a mirror that ran the length of the room.

My hair, which had been previously tied up into a neat ponytail, was now loose, knotted and matted with blood. Mom's white hair ribbon was no where to be seen, but I suppose that if I were ever to find it again, it would no longer be white. My face was haggard and crusted with the dark brown remains of Gohei's blood, as was were my hands and Mom's kimono. The contrast between the pale white of the kimono, my skin and the crusted blood did nothing except make me seem even paler than I normally was. I could see now why Sanosuke had thought me to be a fourteen year old... and I really did look like I'd been pulled out of a sewer.

Sighing, I pulled at the navy obi. The last few days' events had loosened the tight knots Mom had woven, and thus it no longer restricted my breathing. Even so, taking off the obi was a complicated affair that only strengthened my resolve to never wear a kimono again. In fact, I wouldn't wear anything that didn't come with buttons or zippers again. After the obi, everything else slipped off without a fuss until finally, it came to my tabi. Sitting on the toilet seat cover, I yanked the tabi off my feet with renewed passion. I was less than pleased to see the imprint the tight socks had left on my legs. I added them to my 'never again' list.

Grasping the knob, I turned on the hot water and slipped into the shower. Rolling off my tired body in tiny rivulets, the hot water slowly washed away the traces of rust colored patches of skin. I reveled in the feeling of being alone with my thoughts. It had been a while since I could be by myself and conscious at the same time.

Lathering the generic shampoo in my hands, I rubbed the foamy mixture into my tangled locks of hair. It smelled, for lack of a better word, clean. There was no flowery fragrance or fruity scent; it was just clean. I suppose that men didn't buy the same shampoos as women did. After all, on television all the shampoo commercials are aimed at women—and I suppose that men didn't give a crap about what vitamins made their hair healthier, silkier or shinier.

My skin had turned a bright pink color I'd only ever seen on cotton candy. As each water droplet splashed across my skin, my skin burned with stabs of fiery white hot pinpricks of pain. Rubbing gently, the dead layers of skin slowly turned into dark gray oblong shapes that washed away with the water. Off came the layers of dead skin, off came the layers of crusted blood, and off came the memory of murder. Such were the healing powers of a nice hot shower.

Shutting off the water, I drew back the blue fish shower curtain and stepped out of the shower. The mirror was frosted with steam, the air humid. Cracking open the door, I smiled slightly at the haphazard pile of clothing that had obviously been carelessly plopped upon the floor. Somehow it seemed naturally characteristic of Sano to place the clothes down in such a haphazard manner and at the same time, be thoughtful enough to leave a towel. I scrunched my nose. It was a tiny ass hand towel, but it's the thought that counts.

The cold air hit against my wet skin and I hastily tried to make use of the small hand towel as best as I could. However, other than wringing out excess water, I didn't bother to try drying my hair. There was just way too much of it. Not bothering to wonder where Sano had procured a pair of clean women's underwear, I gratefully changed into the fresh set of clothes and promptly blanched.

The dark blue t-shirt was not a woman's shirt at all. Nor was the pair of black pajama pants. The t-shirt hung off my shoulder, while the ends of the pajama pants snagged underneath my feet, dragging along the floor. A faint scent of sandalwood drifted to my nostrils, mixed in with the clean soapy smell of generic shampoo. It was a nice smell, and reminded me of how Aoshi used to smell when I buried my nose in his back whenever he gave me a piggy back ride. It was most definitely a masculine smell, and reveling in the comforting memories it brought to mind, I took another whiff of the T-Shirt.

"Hey lil' missy! Do the clothes fit ya okay? Should I go get another set?"

"It's fine." I winced. The hot steam had improved my sore throat, and I was still hoarse, but no longer a bullfrog.

"Then hurry up will ya? Red says you're wastin' water." Gathering up my mother's kimono, I exited the bathroom. I assumed that 'Red' meant Kenshin, and I was in no mood to piss him off again. If he wanted to conserve water and be uncharacteristically environmentally friendly, then fine. He was a tight wad anyway.

"It's you! I tried hitting on ya two weeks ago! Damn ya clean up nice...I didn't recognize ya with all that dried blood and nasty hair and all..." Settling for a glare, I trudged past him and down the hallway. I refused to stay in Sano's junkyard of a room, and I would rather shoot myself than stay in Kenshin's room again. For the duration of my stay, I would happily take up residence upon the couch.

I would have very much liked to have made it to the couch and establish my personal space. But things that I would like to happen, very rarely do. The next thing I knew, I had fallen on my ass and given a nice kiss to the floor. From my position on the floor, I had a very nice view of the road block that I had bumped into. It was none other than a moody red haired assassin.

Streaks of flashing amber threatened to overtake a calm russet, as he wore a face devoid of warmth, eyebrows twitching with irritation. His long dark red locks fell haphazardly around him in a bloody halo, contrasting against the drabness of his dark attire and pale skin. He was an ice statue that only knew anger; an anger that always seemed to be directed at me.

"Why are you wearing my clothes?"

_What?_ I could immediately feel the blood drain from my face, and pointed an accusatory finger in Sano's direction. My tongue seemed to be lacking functional order, for all I could do was stutter incoherently.

Just as soon as it had drained away, the blood returned to my face full blast. Giving up any thought of communicating with an unsympathetic assassin and a brain dead rooster, I buried my face within my hands. At that moment, I would have liked nothing more than to just roll over and hide under the proverbial rock.

I was wearing his clothes.

For lack of a better word...Ewwwwwwww.

The oversized T-shirt and the pajama pants burned my skin. An urge to rip off his clothes and return them to him embedded itself in my psyche, and I would have done so if it weren't for the fact that in so doing, he would have seen me in my underwear. I didn't want to wear his clothes; I would have worn anyone else's clothes but not his.

"Aw Kenshin, stop being a sissy; ya ain't gonna get cooties from lettin' the little missy wear your PJs. I'd have given her my clothes, but I'm too big. You're closer ta her size." Sano came to stand right behind me, and proceeded to pull me up as one would lift a baby off the floor; by the armpits. How humiliating.

"So you mean to tell me that _you_ were the one who gave her my clothes?" Kenshin diverted his glare from me to Sano, his eyes reverting back to a calmer russet. A bubble of indignation welled up in my chest—why didn't he go all flashy scary eyes on Sano? He'd been quick to pull the flashy amber eyes on me, when I had done nothing wrong. When Sano turned out to be the actual culprit, he just reverted back to russet.

"Hey—don't get angry at _me_. Before ya went off an' brought her over here did it ever occur ta ya ta go and let her pick up some _clothes_? And don't go glarin' off at the little missy either," As if to accentuate the "little", he plopped a large hand on the top of my head, "—ya probably scared the shit outta her; she's only a kid. Ya can't expect her to be all brave and go 'Hey mister scary man, I need some clothes other than the bloody ones I had when ya went and kidnapped me'—OW!"

I dug the heel of my foot a bit harder into Sanosuke's toes. I wasn't a little kid who couldn't speak up for herself against _any normal person_. Kenshin was not _normal_. I had learned my lesson the hard way—no good could ever come from pissing off an assassin, lest he decide that strangling me again would be a proper punishment. Sano, however, was a different story.

"Jerk."

The scene would have been perfect if I could run off into another room and slam the door shut and left them there wondering in awe. As it was, I stomped off down to the end of the hallway only to realize I had no room to call my own. How humiliating.

I had forgotten that I didn't have a tiny niche of personal space here. There was nowhere I could turn to hide from the world, my confinement, or Kenshin. Hands on hips, I whirled around angrily. It wasn't as if I could just up and leave either.

In movies, the heroine was always clever and ingenious. She could either outwit her stupid captors, or the bad guy was insanely handsome and she ended up sleeping with him. Either that or the hero came to save the girl at the end of the day.

I was no heroine. First of all, I was not extremely clever, nor was I ingenious. If I was, I would've already found a means of escape. Secondly, my captor was far from being stupid. Thirdly, while Kenshin could at times be insanely handsome, I wouldn't sleep with him if he were the last man on earth. Lastly, Aoshi had no skill in search and rescue operations and Katsura had cunningly convinced Dad that this was the only safe place for me.

I was stuck here.

I was stuck here with a man who killed people for a living and his bumbling, frilly pink apron wearing sidekick. I was missing my college education because Katsura deemed the world unsafe for me. My life as I knew it had been shattered into a thousand pieces. And it was all because of a ridiculous chain of events starting with one man.

Sano's laughter resounded off of the walls. I suppose he found my lack of personal space to be amusing. I sure as hell didn't, but given the choice between bursting out into tears and throwing a temper tantrum, I found that I didn't like either. Instead, I settled for crossing my arms over my chest, hugging Mom's kimono towards me. A minute longer and I might have burst out into tears, and that would have been beyond humiliating. I bit my lip. Sooner or later I was going to end up crying. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday I would. And chances are it would be in front of either Kenshin or Sanosuke.

"Ha ha ha—ow! Jesus Christ! Kenshin, what the hell was that for?"

_What you saw last night...don't forget it._

Kenshin's left leg was dangling in mid air from the aftermath of a powerful kick, and Sano was sprawled all over the floor. I could only surmise that Kenshin had karate chopped Sano's ass, but his reasons for doing so...

"Next time ask before you steal my clothes."

"Che."

_What you saw last night...don't forget it._

Without sparing a glance back towards Sano, he walked briskly towards where I stood. The sudden urge to run into the bathroom and hide, pulsed in my stomach. My feet were still damp and rivulets of water oozed from my hair and down my back. My toes curled around the dark blue carpeting, and my eyes, were fixated my toes.

I could hear the rise and fall of his footsteps, the sound of his breathing and suddenly, the smell of sandalwood and clean soap overpowered me. My, the wall was a beautiful shade of white, and by golly, the floor was an even more beautiful than I had cared to notice beforehand. Anything so that I didn't have to look at him; anything so that I didn't have to see those eyes again.

The footfalls stopped and instead of one pair of feet, I saw two.

"You are more troublesome than I expected." A pair of calloused hands gently pried Mom's kimono from my tight grasp. In my surprise, I averted my gaze from the floor to his face. And for a split second, our eyes met.

My face burned and the resounding "thwack" reverberated in my ears, followed by Sano's protests and the slam of a door. Everything with Kenshin begins and ends so fast. Close your eyes for a second and you'll miss him completely. Keep your eyes wide open and all you'll see is a messy blur.

_What you saw last night...don't forget it_.

"Aw shit Little Missy, you okay?" Sano was beside me helping me off the floor and probing my cheek for signs of bruising. I didn't feel anything as I was numb with pain. I was, however, aware of the thin trickle of blood on the inside of my mouth where my tooth bit right through a portion of my lower lip.

"Kenshin, ya fuckin' bastard! Where do ya get off hittin' a girl like that? Ya can hit me all ya like, just stop beatin' up the little missy! Come out here an apologize ya rat bastard!"

Sano could yell all night, and Kenshin wouldn't apologize. I could expect no mercy from him, nothing more than what he was willing to give. But in the moment before the punch and after our eyes had met, I remembered. I understood what Katsura mean when he had said the "_the man Himura." _

For a split second, those eyes weren't amber or even russet.

They were blue.

And I understood then and there that Himura Kenshin had two faces, neither of whom I could expect any mercy. Those dark blue eyes, right before turning to darker shade of azure which then fading into amber had burned his message into my mind.

_You are not worth my pity, or my apathy. _

__

AN: This took an abnormal amount of time to get finished, for a number of reasons. One, my computer crashed; twice. This means that his is actually the third time I've rewritten his chapter. Secondly, the onset of junior year of high school is insane especially when you go to a "specialized high school." I get like...four hours of sleep a night if I'm lucky (more often than not, I only get 1 ½ to 2 ¼ hours) and at one point I had seven tests in one week, plus three papers.

Then recently, I got sick with some sort of stomach virus, lost five pounds in one day, couldn't hold down anything—not even WATER, and was thus sent to the emergency room where they had to hook me up to IV fluids. Then I had to go play catch-up with all my schoolwork.

Argh!

Other than that I've been fine and diligently plugging away at this story. Can't promise how often I'll update because of school...but November has some days off so maybe that'll speed Chapter seven up. Happy Halloween.

Reviewers:

MZ. AMbER EYES- Yes I did have king bingsoo...dear god. I was so full afterwards it's not funny...

Jouko-chan- Yes...Kaoru's mom was modeled after my mom too... ; Except in the whole nagging me to get married thing, she's not nagging about when but about WHO, which may or may not be even worse.

Ayame, in Kouga hating mode- Kicktown, USA? Where's that XD?

nobody: I agree that Kaoru probably should keep her mouth shut, but then what kind of story would that make? I don't doubt that she'll cause more trouble with that mouth of hers...hehe

Nguardian- the Tomoe storyline that'll be coming up semi-soon is both insane and rather sickening. At least to me it is. Perhaps maybe that will explain Kenshin's wackiness, and the drastic changes he goes through in terms of personality. Oops...just gave something away...wink

Also, uber thanks to Sakk, happy, Reignashii, rain angst, blergh, tomboi chic, Jomotto, samuraiduck27, and himesama16.


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